


Guess It's All So Different

by strawberry_wined



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Depression, F/F, Other, Pyromania, References to Depression, Slow burnish??, Song references, also people don't ush include Henry FitzRoy in six reunion fics, awkward writer, but also aralyn rights, catherine is a good mum, first fanfic, mary centric story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24201652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_wined/pseuds/strawberry_wined
Summary: Mary is still trying to piece together how it happened. One minute, she didn't exist. The next, she woke up in apartment to a baby, with a red-headed toddler and a preteen boy.Bloody hell.
Relationships: Anne Boleyn & Elizabeth I of England, Anne Boleyn/Catherine of Aragon, Anne of Cleves/Katherine Howard, Catherine Parr/Jane Seymour, Catherine of Aragon & Mary I of England, Edward VI of England & Jane Seymour
Comments: 28
Kudos: 171





	1. Heaven Doesn't Want Me Now

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I usually don't write at all but I had this plot bunny on how Mary would react to Aralyn and also how the Tudor kids will be reunited (and it feeel so good!) with their parents so uh here is my attempt :)

Reincarnation. That word. Mary thought it was a funny thing. It was against her belief, that belief of coming back (as if Heaven and Hell did not exist and sinful men don't receive their just punishment) to life in the form some animal or human into another generation of suffering, pain and mortal incapacities.

If somebody had told her this concept half of a century ago, she would have called you a heretic; punished them for the blasphemy. But now?

She felt like a fool.

And a monster.

How... how could she? All those protestants: those people. She had killed them all for nothing. No not killed, she had them burned. All for nothing. Nothing!

She thought... that she was doing the right thing. England had strayed from the Church, and she had to restore it to obedience; to the Lord. But in the end, it was all worthless. She (in Fitz's _spectacular_ words, not hers) "got uno-reverse carded" by Elizabeth, who had reformed England for good. Her religion, the one thing she absolutely believed in, the only thing she held on to after her mother's death... was it all a lie?

Does God actually exist? It didn't matter anymore, she reminded herself. All she knew now was one minute, she didn't exist. The next, she did. It was up to her to take care of her siblings.

* * *

_*one week ago*_

"Mary?" A voice asked. Opening her eyes, she saw a black-haired boy, wearing a sort of hat (a beanie, she'd find out later) and grey clothes that she was not familiar with at all. He looked concerned; like he knew her personally.

"Who.. who are you?"

She noticed she was lying down on something soft. Helping her up from the bed, he took a while to respond. "I'm FitzRoy. Henry FitzRoy, your half brother." he said weakly, as if he was ashamed.

Mary was unfazed. "Where are we?" She asked, seeing dirty yellow walls, a pull out couch, some chairs and a mini table. It all looked strange... and dirty. Where were they?

"I don't really know. I woke up two hours ago and saw you lying on the floor. Had to carry you to a bed to.. you know, make feel you comfortable."

It was rare for someone would be that nice to her. "Oh."

"No problem." FitzRoy said. Henry FitzRoy... his name was mentioned sometime before, many times for her to remember (her father's bastard), but the face... it was like a face she should've known, but is a stranger to her.

"I think, before anything else, you need to see something." FitzRoy said, opening the door to another room.

Stepping inside, Mary cannot believe her eyes. There stood a little girl, three or four, who looked just like.. No.

"Elizabeth?" She asked, crouching down to her level. With her cute brown eyes looking at Mary's blue ones, Lizzie quickly enveloped Mary in a tight hug. "Mary- where were you? We were scared!" Mary hugged her back.

"She was asking for you the whole time." FitzRoy said, leaning his back at the door.

"'We'?" Mary asked. Pulling away from the hug, Lizzie then pointed to the crib, prompting Mary to look inside.

There she saw a baby, but not any baby... it was Edward. (She was as sure as Saint Peter's choice of death.)

Bloody hell.

* * *

Snapping out of her train of thought (for now), she balanced three cup noodles on top of each other. They usually buy bread to spare money, but it was Fitz's birthday. Every other day Fitz would be the one grocery shopping, while Mary would be the one at the apartment taking care of Liz After finding Eddie's milk, Mary went to the counter to pay. Out of the corner of her eye she sees a pack of painkillers.

'Just to be sure' she reassured herself, grabbing a pack. She then placed everything to the counter.

_Angel wings on the bus stop_

_Halos left on top of the bar_

_Heaven doesn't want me now_

_Heaven doesn't want me_

Mary was used to the songs blasting in convenience stores, this one no different, but this song, it was reminding her of something she didn't want to remember.

If the Lord and Heaven did not exist, they wouldn't want her at all. Her sin, it was too horrible, and no one can forgive her. Not the Lord, not Elizabeth, not even her mama.

Mama.

God, her mama. The thought of her mama brought so much weight to her heart, eyes tearing up with regret. She should have fought harder.

She blinked the tears back. Mary Tudor never cried. Especially not in a conveniece store.

Paying the cashier the money, she noticed a poster on their window. It was purple, with a white captioned "SIX" written on it. "Six?" She asked.

"Haven't you heard? The cashier chirped. "They're doing a free concert at the park tomorrow night. You and your friends should go, it's a fun experience!"

So it's free, eh? "What's it about?"

"It's about six queens of England... who married the same guy! Isn't that crazy? I can barely get myself a guy!" But Mary wasn't listening anymore. Queens. England. Same Guy.

Could it be? Is it possible that they- that she's?

"Can I have a flyer? I need to hurry home."


	2. They're Broken but They're Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tudor children spend the day before Mary leaves for the concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is a guide to the appearances of the kids:  
> *Mary - age: 15 (mocha skin, brown curly hair, and blue eyes-- wears a gold cross necklace and red plaid jacket)  
> *Henry FitzRoy "Fitz" - age: 12 (black hair with brown eyes -- wears a grey beanie)  
> *Elizabeth - age: 3 (blonde-red hair: dark brown eyes-- light green dress)  
> *Edward - 3 weeks old (blonde locks: grey eyes-- baby blue onesie)

In the high balcony of the palace, she could hear everything. The sound of flaming red embers burning. The agonizing screams of burning protestants. When it went goes quiet, she can hear the wallowing shouts of her sister, begging her to _please Mary, please just let me go._

Every night is like this, and it never goes silent.

She pretends she doesn't hear her.

In some way, she tries to enjoy the sound, tries to revel in the noises. It was better than the thoughts echoing in her brain. Only in this dream, she wasn't smiling. Her hair is unkempt, her eyes empty of emotion.

Closing her eyes, she tries to remember the passion of watching the fire consume the empty bodies, tries to force back smile she gives to herself to every scream... but it doesn't work.

It goes silent.

_Worthless- delusional- heartless-_

The voices all come back.

_This is your fault, Mary._

_If you_ _had been born a boy and not a girl, England would have not been defiant!_

_If you hadn't been so weak-willed, Elizabeth would have not been a heretic! If you hadn't been so repulsive Philip would be here right beside you!_

_If you hadn't been-_

_Silly girl, what good are these thoughts? It is no use. You are who you made yourself to be. You created Bloody Mary, not anyone else- no matter how much you tell yourself._

_Stupid father, stupid Boleyn, stupid sister-_

_You are the one at fault! You are the monster!_

...

..

.

_If mother was still here, would you think she'd still love you?_

Drops of blood start to spill from her eyes, dripping on the marble railing permanently. (You can't get blood out of stone).

One thought remains:

_No._

_No she wouldn't._

* * *

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." Blinking her eyes after feeling a pillow hit her, she saw Fitz on her doorstep, his hand stirring a cup of coffee with his tablespoon. Putting her head under her pillow, she mumbles a " _you're too young to drink that,_ " which she always says, and to which Fitz always ignores. Rising up from the bed, Mary feels her bones weary. 

That dream, it always comes back, every night. It was quietly tormenting her to the bone, but as always she pretends it's not there.

"Edward's... _not_ crying?"

"I know right" Fitz chuckled, sipping in his cup. "He's snug as a bug in a rug today. Was suprised too." 

"It's refreshing." Mary comments.

"Although _maybeee_ it was because his big awesome brother who brought him back to sleep after big sis of the year started yellin' like a mad person during his bedtime." He says smugly, leaving Mary before she'd react.

"It wasn't like I was doing it for no reason!" She retorts, loud enough for him to hear. She modulates her voice to make sure not to wake up the young ones. Putting on her jacket, she grabs the Six poster on the floor. _We still need to talk about this_.

She leaves goes the kitchen, looking at Fitz as he makes starts making breakfast sandwiches. "Still, should have been in more control. Ever heard of chill out?" 

"Chill out?"

* * *

_*last night*_

"FITZ OPEN UP!" Mary said knocking the door of their apartment incessantly. She could feel the neighbors disturbed but she did not get herself to care. Modesty be damned- this was more important!

"FITZROY! FITZROY OPEN UP THIS INSTANT! FITZROYYYYY!! FITZROY IF YOU DON'T OPEN THIS DOOR I WILL-" the door opens and a hand grabs her shirt by the collar, pulling her in and abruptly shuts the door. The hand, which turn out to be Fitz's, then proceeds to lock the door. Baby Edward's crying was heard in his and Lizzie's room.

"Are you hurt? Was someone following you?" Fitz asked, in a low whisper.

"No." Mary said, but before she could continue, Fitz grabbed Mary at both shoulders, his eyes very baggy due to (finding out later) spending almost two hours trying to tire Elizabeth out and rocking Eddie to sleep.

"Then why were yoU YELLING LIKE SOMEONE WAS GOING TO KILL YOU!" Fitz said, shaking Mary back and forth at every word. After stopping Fitz and hitting him on the head for his crankiness, Mary told him everything.

"What do you mean they're alive?"

* * *

"Chill out. Means you need to calm down . To relax." 

In all honestly, she does not know how to calm down or relax. She had three siblings to take care of, and while one of them is old enough to look after of the younger ones, he was still 12. She had to maintain the apartment, and the money she got from helping thrift stores was starting to run out (it was a good thing their landlady was kind enough to let them stay, but even Mary knows it won't last). They _needed_ a change.

(Mary thinks this was all by perfect luck: the generous thrift store owners nearby, the kind landlady, the dirty but good apartment, the crib perfectly in place for Eddie... but somehow it was like their lives were supposed to be like this: struggling, but okay.

It was like they were meant to find something, something to make their lives easier.

Their mothers.)

"Do you think we should go?" Mary said, looking at the poster once again. "To the concert I mean?"

Fitz thought about it for a while. "Well, we can't exactly bring Liz and Eddie to a huge park, there'd be too much people- and you know how Liz is." 

True enough. A baby is not suited for concerts and Eddie's crying might do more harm than good. And Lizzie, sweet child, loved to wander off everywhere. They hadn't lost her before, and weren't planning to.

"But-" Fitz continued, smearing strawberry jam on the sliced bread. "If there was a chance they are alive, like you say, you need to take the chance." 

"So I go alone?"

"It is better for their safety." Fitz then smiles. "Plus, Liz wants to watch Frozen again." Mary then makes a face. Frozen was the only dvd in the apartment, and Fitz and Liz had been watching it for the entirety of the week. Over and over again- she was sick of it.

If she saw that singing snowman dance stupidly _one more time_ , throwing the disc won't be enough. 

(throwing the TV out the window does).

"Alright."

* * *

Mary had finished preparing a new bottle for Eddie and Fitz was chasing Liz to exhaustion. Apparently no running after eating means nothing to them. (She can't help but crack a smile before fading back to her stone cold face).

Fitz and Lizzie were lying on the floor, both breathing heavily after playing. Mary then lies down with them, forming a triangle. They were looking at the ceiling, trying to cope the boredom of doing nothing. After a while, Lizzie had ran off to draw with her pack of broken crayons, which Fitz had found in a garbage disposal a few days ago. (Mary tried to reason with Lizzie about how unsuitable they were but Lizzie was as stubborn as she was. 

"They're broken, but they're mine." Lizzie said possessively, counting all the crayons.)

"Mary?" Fitz asked, still looking at their ceiling.

"Yes?"

"You know.. since you're going to the concert, do you think there's-" he stopped, unsure of what to say. Taking a deep breath, he continued.

"She wouldn't be there right? After all, the concert is about six wives, not about his entire love life..." He forces a laugh. "If they are really them, what do you think will happen to me?"

"We will find a way for you to live with us." Mary replied adamantly, as if she wanted the conversation to be over. 

"But what if-"

"But what?" Mary asked. Scooting over her side and facing her, Fitz continued.

"It's just that... I have never had a better bond with you guys in the last life. Even though he had recognized me as his son, he didn't let me grow up with you or Elizabeth... and..."

"And you died before Edward was born." Mary finished quietly.

"The point is, our father was the worst. He may have acknowledged me as his son, but that was only to fuel his _oh so mighty_ ego. He gave me fancy titles and privileges instead of his love and time. And now, I have a second chance to be a brother again, if not to George then to you, Elizabeth and Edward. I don't want to lose that."

"We will find a way." Mary said, hugging Fitz with her head on top of his.

"Do you promise?" He asked, his voice cracking at the last word.

She ruffled his hair through his beanie. "Of course, my dear boy."

* * *

The sun had just set when Mary had finished preparing everything she needed for the concert. She bought a small pouch with money, two disposable phones (one for her and the other for Fitz) just in case something goes wrong and-

"What's this?" Fitz asked, holding a small bottle with a button on top of it.

"It's called 'pepper spray.' The store owner taught me how to use it. She said it was good for defending one's self."

"So, how you do-"

"You spray them on the eyes-"

"Ohhhh-"

"It will hurt their eyes, so you can get a chance to escape."

"It's bloody brillaint." Fitz said, laughing. He gave it back to Mary, and she slipped it in her jacket pocket.

Mary then hugged Elizabeth tight, telling Liz that when she comes back, she might bring people with them. 

"Who?" Elizabeth asks.

"Maybe people we can have a family with." Fitz answered for her.

Up until this point, Mary had been ignoring a certain fact: that if her mother really was reincarnated and now in a band of her father's ex wives, that would mean Anne Boleyn was there too.

(That thought of giving Elizabeth to that harlot made Mary's blood boil.)

"Make sure burp Edward after he finished his bottle." She reminds him before he can forget. Fitz always forgets. (She and Fitz knows that they can't take care of him forever. No matter how much they love him, Edward still needs a mother.) 

"I will."

Before leaving the door, she looks back at the two of them. "I really hope it's them." She said, giving a hopeful smile.

Fitz smiles back. "I hope so too. Be safe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i was really doubting myself at first and but the feedback is amazing. thank you all so much <3 i really want to improve more so open criticism is accepted.  
> \- George is Henry FitzRoy's half brother from his mother's side. They were pretty close.  
> \- prepare for Mary and Catherine's reunion in the next chapter ^^


	3. Maria?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain spanish queen reunites with her daughter

The air was as chilly as you'd expect from a cold Thursday night in London. The park was big, full of park benches and surrounded with beautiful pavements and freshly cut grass. In the center of it all, a big black stage was apparent. As she was walking she could see a railing around the stage (probably to seperate the stage from the ones watching, Mary thought.)

There were at least two guards wearing black at each side of backstage and they did not look like they were negiotiable.

 _Great_ , Mary thought _, that threw away her plan to find them backstage before the show begins. What now?_

There was already several lines of fans gathering outside the railing, chattering and using their cellphones, which looked more advanced than the one Mary was holding. She called Fitz first, telling him she had arrived safety. After the call, she forced her way into the front in sort of a selfish matter, so that she would get the best view for the concert.

"Watch it!" One of the strangers snarked, after Mary shoved him to get nearer to the railing. 

She was in front of the railing when it had occured to her that she did not have company. Most of the people in front with her were too busy talking with each other for them to notice the black girl holding onto her cross necklace for support.

(Not that Mary minded, she was called an _aloof soul_ and a _bitter woman_ by most of her rivals, and by some whispers from her court after her Heresy act. She learned how to bite back the hurt she felt. Being her father's daughter made sure of that.) 

The clattered noise of the people were starting to annoy her. Were people really this loud in front of a performance? She ought to bat them all with the first object she sees fit if she could.

(It reminds her how lonely she is.)

Somehow, the loneliness never left. Even in this life, she had no one to really cling on to. (She had her siblings, yes, but Elizabeth was a toddler and Eddie was a baby, and who was it to say that Mary wouldn't make the same mistakes again? That she might shun and rid all sisterly love again out of Elizabeth, that she'll let _religion_ come first than her relationship with Edward?) 

(Even with FitzRoy she failed, she couldn't be there at the end of his life, and they never had the bond before they had now. What if she ruins what they have now?)

( _"I love you most"_ she remembered Edward writing to her, back when he was younger and not a king. Sometimes she wished she had that letter, to remind herself that she was lovable.)

(But she isn't.)

Focusing her attention back to reality, she could her a soft sound (a piano? a harp? She couldn't tell) starting to play, signalling the viewers that the concert was to start. The stage then went completely dark. A second later, a light appeared and a familiar voice boomed its way into the room.

_"Divorced!"_

Soon another voices came. 

_"Beheaded!"_

_"Died!"_

Why couldn't she see their faces?

_"Divorced!"_

_"Beheaded!"_

_"Survived."_

_"and tonight, London, we are..."_

_"LIVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"_

The lights were open.

She could see her.

The world stopped for a moment.

She was there.

 _"Listen up, let me tell you a story!"_ Her mother sang confidently.

She was there, on the stage, singing her heart out with the other women on the stage. She was there, dressed in strange clothing and strange hair but her face and her voice were hers and her smile was hers and she was real, her mother was just as alive as she was and-

Tears start to overflow her eyes, overwhelming herself full of sorrow and regret and happiness and everything and nothing. It was a raw emotion. She wanted more than anything to run to her, to burn the railing that seperated them, to climb up the stage and look at her, to hug her tightly and _never, EVER, let go_. (She was glad no one was looking at her now: they'd most likely see a girl crying over non-sentimental song.)

(It was sentimental. It was everything.)

By the time her tears had finally succumbed, it was already the second chorus. Her eyes then focused on the queens surrounding her mother, her stepmothers. They had weird various outfits (color specific, she noted) and strange hair as well, but their faces were recognizable even from a distance. 

Suddenly they were singing as individuals.

_"My name's Catherine of Aragon, was married twenty four years. I'm a paragon of royalty..."_

Mary can't help but stare in awe, her mother was as queenly as she was before.

_"My loyalty is to the Vatican, so if you try to dump me... you won't try that again."_

Then Anne Boleyn came next. As she was singing, the hate started to stir up in Mary's chest. She was barely listening to her solo. Thankfully it was over quickly.

_"Jane Seymour, the only one he truly loved!"_

_"Rude!"_ The other queens chimed.

Mary let out a small chuckle, _that was rude_. She remembers them again, relives Jane Seymour and her heavenly smile, Anna of Cleves and her suaveness and integrity. She remembers Catherine Parr scribbling, Howard being an immature brat and the oh so saintly Anne Boleyn ruining her life. 

The song was too fast for her to grasp all that they say, but she could grasp the scene in front of her, the queens dancing with each other, their body language showing their bond and closeness. They were... having fun, if that was the word.

Then after, the queens introduced themselves as Six, and they were on their "divorced beheaded live tour". Her mother did something called "a riff" which sounded amazing to her ears.

"So obviously you know who we are-" her mother said "But give it up for our ladies in waiting!"

That was when she heard her name: Bessie. ("Bessie on the bass" to be exact, but she hoped to God that it was Bessie Blount. For Fitz's sake, he cannot be the one who has no one.) 

As the show went on, Mary enjoyed most of the songs. She absolutely loved her mother's song. She was insulting father and it sounded like a new type of gospel. 

( _"Well Daddy, weren't you there when I gave birth to Mary?"_ Her mother did not forget her, and Mary could've sworn, for a second, her mother looked at her, like she knew Mary was there.) 

Then it was the temptress' turn. While she cannot admit the song was not good, Mary wanted nothing more than to go to the stage and yank Anne Boleyn's buns of her hair. 

This was the woman who destroyed their home and took away her bastard of a father, this was the woman who mistreated her and lowered her self esteem by uttering nasty threats at her and even tried to have her own father sentence her to death, all because she and her mother would not call her the queen!

If Mary was a sinner, Anne Boleyn was _the devil_. Had Anne been alive by the time Mary was queen, she would have burned her too (and she wouldn't regret it one bit). 

_'Go to hell, Anne Boleyn.'_ Mary said, more to herself. 

The next song was from Jane Seymour. Jane made her forget about her hatred for Anne, because in her eyes, Jane was nothing like Anne. She was a good mother, a good stepmother, and she was a good queen, and it was Jane restored her and Elizabeth back to court. It was Jane who held her hand when it was her first birthday without her mother, who held her hand in court, held it even in her death. 

Mary can't help but cry a bit. (Jane did everything just for Edward to live, even if it meant her life was to end. She remembered praying incessantly, even as Jane started looking paler and paler.

 _"Please, please not her too"_ she whispered to the Virgin Mary. Then she died, and everyone had grieved for her, all except the baby she gave her life for.)

After a rather strange performance about Hans Holbien (who was not her favorite painter), the last three queens sang their songs. Anna of Cleves was as suave and confident as her past self, and her song was now one of Mary's favorites (Anna calling her father a 'dirty rascal' made her smile). 

then there was Katherine Howard. Mary hated her too, used to see her as a childish and immature. Katherine also humiliated her before by removing two of her favorite maids. But during her song she cannot help but feel maybe her hatred was misplaced. Mary doesn't know why, she hated both her and her cousin when she was alive, but looking at her now, she looks more mature. Like she wasn't the same giggling young girl she once was.

Lastly there was Catherine Parr, her mother's goddaughter. She was the last, the lucky, married two degenerates in her life. She brought her and Elizabeth back to the succession. She fondly remembers her writing, all day, every day. 

(Mary wished, however, that Parr would stop looming over Thomas the whole song; Mary knew what that bloke did to Elizabeth, and Parr deserved better.)

Then they started coming all together, singing to their bastard ex-husband that 'they don't need his love' and rewriting their endings for themselves. And Mary cannot explain it but she felt proud of them (well, most of them), and she couldn't wait to run to most of them, run to her, to run into her arms and be found again. 

* * *

_"For FIVE FOUR THREE TWO ONE MORE MINUTE... WE'RE SIX!"_ There was a roaring encore, as the lights go dark and the queens left the stage, Mary's plan was on the go. She couldn't afford to waste time waiting for the crowd to clear, so as she went in by force, she went out by force.

By the time she manage to find her way to the backstage, she was panting in exhaustion. There were too many rude people she bumped into and sneaking from the first guards was hard enough. Sneaking over to the dark side of the backstage,she can see a bodyguard guarding a white door with the label "SIX" on it. 

She approached the guard. "Hello, sir." She addressed formally. "I wish to speak with my mother, she is one of the members of the band and-" 

"Yeah right, get lost kid!" The guard snarked, interrupting Mary. "The ladies need a break from fans right now."

Oh, if she _could only burn him now_. "But I need to speak with her!" Instead of answering, the man was calling for security. Realizing she had no option, she takes the small bottle out of her pocket and put her finger on the trigger. In one quick swoop, she pushed the trigger spraying the guard right in the eyes.

He dropped the walkie talkie and screamed rubbing his eyes, which gave her a chance to sweep her way into the room safely.

Closing the door behind her, she stumbles upon them in various positions of standing and sitting down on executive chairs. Whatever talk there was, it stopped when they looked at their intruder.

All their eyes were glued at her, but her eyes were fixated on only one of them.

Catalina slowly stood up, shock and regret and love evident in her face, her heart pounding in her chest. _Is this real? Or is this another excruciating dream plaguing her again_? Lina thought.

"Maria?" She croaked. Mary gave a sturdy nod, her eyes replicating her mother's glossy ones. Tears streamed out her eyes as Mary rushed and threw herself at her mother, Lina's arms easily catching her, pulling her closer than she ever did before.

"Mama" she cried, not caring how childish she sounded. She felt her mama tuck her hair behind her ear, then pulling back to look at her again. Tears were apparent in both of their eyes, they laughed, until the need to hold each other came again.

Mary was _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Mary's views on Boleyn and Howard are not my views. I love them.


	4. N/A Announcement

After much thinking, I've decided that I will no longer continue this story. My interest in Six has greatly declined over the past months, as I've grown to like other fandoms, and I just don't know how to progress this story onward. I'm terribly sorry. I do still like Aralyn and the thought of the Six's children reuniting with their parents, and if there's anyone who wants to adopt this story I am more than happy to let you. I'm not that confident yet in my writing abilities, but I will try to improve in later works. Who knows? Maybe I'll find a way to finish this in my own time if I get into Six again. Thank you all so much for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting, I deeply appreciate it, and once again, I am sorry.


End file.
